


ghosts on our breath

by playmaker



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Drabble, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 20:14:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13689009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playmaker/pseuds/playmaker
Summary: Neil had found Andrew on the balcony of their shared apartment when he came home from his morning run, wrapped in a blanket and smoking one of Neil’s cigarettes.





	ghosts on our breath

**Author's Note:**

> a little definitely-not-proofread thing

Neil had found Andrew on the balcony of their shared apartment when he came home from his morning run, wrapped in a blanket and smoking one of Neil’s cigarettes.

Padding across their living room, Neil made his way to the door, sliding it open carefully and slipping through without a sound, comfortably finding his place at Andrew’s side.

Andrew flicked his eyes to Neil, not saying anything, and took a pull from the cigarette dangling between his fingers.

“I bought ice cream on the way home,” Neil said conversationally, stuffing his hands into the pouch of his hoodie. “Some special edition thing. I already forgot what it’s called.”

Andrew hummed, shrugging the blanket off of the shoulder closest to Neil in silent invitation. Neil bit down on a smile, taking the cast line, and sidled up closer to Andrew so their sides were pressed together. He slipped a hand out of his pocket only long enough to pull his newly obtained half of the blanket around himself.

They sat like that for awhile, Andrew smoking and Neil inhaling the bittersweet scent. The hazy, sharp smell didn’t remind Neil of his mother as much— not anymore. New memories replaced the old and new sensations came along with them.

Before, it was an ode to exhaustion; a not quite home. It meant Abram and Mary finally having a moment of fragile peace, long enough for his mother to curl herself up onto a windowsill. She would hold the cigarette in one hand, blood from between her teeth soaking into the filter that browned with every drag, while her other hand held a gun pressed flat against her stomach like a security blanket. Abram would sit on the floor beneath the window with his temple tucked to his knee, letting the scent synonymous with transient safety permeate every inch of him, drinking it in.

Now, with Andrew, it _was_ a home. There was nothing _not quite_ about it. They had spent years trading cigarettes and secrets, and over time, the two had become interchangeable. Nights on the rooftop at Fox Tower were thanks to the cigarettes, and on those nights, Neil would learn more about healing than whiskey and homemade stitches had ever taught him.

 _Healing by burying,_ Neil thought numbly, not for the first time.

The city hummed with life below their apartment building, cars honking and whirring with the morning rush hour. It was almost cathartic, in a way, to watch the hustle and bustle of a world they were separate from. The two of them had nowhere else to be but exactly where they were. Sometimes, Neil thought it felt as though there wasn’t even a world beyond him and Andrew to begin with.

After some time, Neil reached for Andrew's cigarette, and Andrew grasped his wrist without a word, stopping him. When Neil met eyes with Andrew in question, he startled minutely at the intense expression on the other’s face.

Not taking his eyes off of Neil's, Andrew raised the hand holding the cigarette to the other's lips, the pads off his fingers grazing the corner of Neil's mouth. Neil watched silently, taking in the honeyed gold of Andrew’s half-lidded eyes, not missing the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed when Neil took a slow, deliberate drag.

Andrew pulled the cigarette back and Neil had to physically stop himself from leaning forward to chase it. He held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, lips slightly parted, before exhaling softly. The wisps caught in the morning sunlight, threading gold tendrils through the air. Neil watched the smoke rise and curl until disappearing completely.

When Neil’s eyes found their way to Andrew again, he was already looking. He was _always_ looking, if Neil gave time to think about it.

“What?” Neil asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the quiet stillness of their balcony. He had mostly spoke just for the sake of speaking. He figured Andrew would just huff and look away, taking another drag.

He didn’t though, and Neil really should’ve known better than to think Andrew Minyard would stay predictable. He had learned over the years that Andrew was in a constant state of flux, each change only tiny, and Neil would always find himself changing too. As Andrew’s edges grew softer around Neil, Neil’s pace grew slower around Andrew. Between the two of them, there was nothing to shield themselves from, and nothing to run away from.

Andrew tilted his head, absently flicking ash from the glowing red tip of his half-gone cigarette.

“It’s weird,” he said simply, as if it made perfect sense.

“What is?” Neil shifted under the shared blanket, pulling it just a bit tighter as a breeze swept by.

“This. Us. It still feels like a fever dream, sometimes.” Andrew took another drag before holding it out to Neil, who took it with cold fingers and held it between cupped palms.

Neil smiled, handing the cigarette back to Andrew after a few seconds. With his free hand, he ghosted his touch up Andrew’s arm before touching the underside of his bicep through his shirt.

Then he pinched. _Hard._

Andrew reflexively crushed the filter in his grip, whirling towards Neil in irritated surprise, scowling.

Neil held up both hands in surrender with a grin.

“Not a dream, then?”

Andrew did huff this time, rolling his eyes.

Neil bit his cheek to try and smother his grin. He lifted his hand to touch Andrew’s cheek, but the other leaned out of his reach, blanket sliding off of his shoulder and face impassive.

“Oh, come _on!_ ” Neil practically whined, scooting towards Andrew.

Andrew levelled him with a blank stare. After a moment, he exhaled through his nose and pulled the blanket back over himself, shifting to Neil’s side again.

“Not a dream,” Andrew echoed. “I’d never dream up someone so insufferable. It’s more like a nightmare.”

Neil laughed bright and clear, eyes shining.

Neil’s laugh then faded into such a fond smile that Andrew felt like he might have been dying.

“Rude.” A pause. “Yes or no?”

Andrew blinked slowly, as if he were actually considering declining.

He leaned in, breath tickling Neil’s skin.

“Yes,” he murmured, and maybe it wasn’t a dream after all.

**Author's Note:**

> things have been very hard for me lately, friends. still, i hope you enjoy this tiny little thing.


End file.
